There was a sharp pain that woke her. She grabbed for her arm, her vision blurred, the room spinning.
There was a strange face appearing in her line of vision. A terrible grin on his face. "It's just you and me now," he said.
She closed her eyes and fell into unconsciousness.
OoOoO
When she woke up the second time, her mouth was dry and felt like it was stuffed with cotton. Her head hurt and she was seeing double.
She tried to wipe her eyes, only to realize she was tired down to the chair. Even her chest was taped. Everything was holding her in.
Buffy blinked furiously as the strange smell attacked her senses and it took her a moment to figure out what it was.
"Gasoline," she breathed.
She stared around the room. There were candles, all lit, on tops of gas tanks. Her chair was in the middle of a puddle. And a pillar candle was lit, sitting just off to the side on the floor.
She was in one of Angel's shirts, her legs and her feet were bare. Her arms were pulled back behind the chair and they were taped together. Her injured arm was rebelling against the pain of being abused in this way.
She swiveled her head while trying to figure out where she was and who had her.
The room was unfamiliar but the walls... they were covered all with pictures of her. There were hundreds of them. Some were taken while she had been working, others when she was out doing errands, but the ones that made her blood run cold were ones taken with Angel.
His face had been cut out or marked over in every one of the pictures.
There were comments in bold letters written over and under the pictures. Words like bitch, whore, die and such were left there.
They sent a chill down her spine.
There were also newspaper articles taped on the walls and windows. She saw the one she had written on the drug bust. The one she'd met Angel at. And more articles were around about the arsonist.
Under them was a small bed. It was made up almost in military precision and on top was a thick black scrapbook. Every page was so full, bits were hanging from it.
OoOoO
"Where am I?"
"You are in my home," the voice came out from behind her.
She tried desperately to see who it was but deep down she already knew. "What... what do you want from me?"
"You lied about me. You lied and then all the other papers lied, too. I brought you here to pay for them."
The man moved closer and she cringed as he dropped his hands to her shoulders. His skin was burned, horrible scarred.
"If.. if you let me go.. I could fix those lies. I could.. wr.. write the truth about you.. why you burn those buildings. I promise! I'll write whatever you want..."
He patted her shoulder and laughed softly. "Did you like my fires? I know you've been at a couple of them. The flames...they're so pretty. Did you know that fire is alive? It breaths. It consumes. It destroys."
"I.. I never thought of it that way.. but now that you said that..."
"Quit patronizing the freak," he chuckled, "I am not an idiot. And I do not wet my bed either."
"I.. I'm sorry I wrote that," she said quickly. "I got that quote from an expert on arsonists. I'll retract anything I said.. you just have to let me go." Tears began to streak down her face. The fumes from the gas were getting to her too much and it was making her sick. "Please.. just let me go."
"I can't do that. You have to be made to see the truth the way I was. You have to face the fire, let it burn into you, you have to feel the... the blessing... as it feeds off of your pretty flesh." And he moved around so she could see his face.
Buffy barely barely bit back the scream as she saw him for the first time.
Fresh burns covered his cheeks. There were huge blisters and red skin, all covered by a thin sheen of some kind of cream. His eyes were wild above the burns, his eyebrows were gone, burned off by whatever had caused this. His hair was burned in places, then was thick and full in others.
"Oh, God, please don't," she begged, horrified. "Why are you doing this? Please just let me go! I won't tell anyone! You can just undo the tape and I'll leave. I won't cause any problems. Please!"
He laughed. "I can't do that." He bent to pick the candle from the floor. He turned it so wax dropped off and onto her knee.
She hissed as it landed, unable to move or get away from the drops. "Please.." she sobbed.
"You beg.. so... so prettily," he told her and lifted the candle. "Now.. I'm going to take this candle and I'm going to put it on the table just behind you. If you can face the fire, let it burn through your tape, you'll be able to get free. But if not... I have a timer rigged on one of those gas cans there. It has just enough to knock over the tank and make the candle land into the gas," he laughed again, "and no.. I'm not going to tell you how long a fuse it has," he whispered.
"Please! Don't do this!" she cried.
"You can get away if you wish," he pulled away from her, "You can now feed those pretty fingers to the flame, let it free you. Or, you can sit and wait for the timer to go off and hope the little explosion blows out the flame before it hits. Either way... it's about time that I left."
He lifted up Buffy's chin, forcing her to look at him.
"Can I have a goodbye kiss?"
"Fuck you!" she said and jerked away from his fingers.
"Now, now. That is no way to treat someone," he chuckled. "I kind of wish I could stay here and watch.. but I've got other stuff to burn and not a lot of time to do it in. Have fun!" He bent to pick up a can of gasoline and a small bag.
She heard the door behind her open and close again.
She was now alone in a room full of gas and candles.
OoOoO
Panic struck Buffy hard and fast.
She wriggled in the chair, desperate to free herself. She pulled against the tape, feeling it move, but not enough to get loose. It was also wrapped around the bandages so she knew if she tried to burn the tape they would burn as well.
"Fuck fuck fuck!" she screamed, struggling more. "Angel, where are you?"
OoOoO
Angel whistled as he opened the door to their hotel room, a bag of food in one hand, in his other he was holding clean clothes for Buffy. He could hardly wait to see her in what he'd picked out.
"Hey," Angel called as he opened the door. "Time to get up... Buffy?"
The bed was torn apart, sheets and the blankets on the floor. Angel dropped his bags and ran into the bathroom.
"Buff?"
She was nowhere to be seen. He walked to the phone and called the lobby.
"Did anyone see Buffy Summers leave the building?"
"No sir," the operator told him.
He dropped the phone to its cradle without answering.
'It has to be her cousins. Damnit, I knew I should have taken her with me.'
He picked the phone up once more, pulling out Owen's card from his wallet and dialing the number to his cell phone.
"Where is she, Owen?" he asked when there was an answer.
"She's with you, isn't she?" Owen answered.
"No, she's not. Why would I call you is she was with me? Where are those damn cousins of yours? They must have taken her." He dug his hand into his hair, more than frustrated.
"They're with me right now, Angelus. They couldn't have taken her."
Angel heard some noise on the other end of the phone and then Caleb's unmistakable voice came over the line. "I thought you said you didn't have her, Angelus."
"Can I help it if Buffy would rather hide out than have you stick your nose into her business? Maybe, If you weren't so heavy-handed, she'd probably be with you right now instead of..." Angel took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "This won't get us anywhere. We've got to find her. I left her here to go get food and when I came back, she was gone."
"We'll meet you at the hotel."
"No! Meet me at the precinct. Owen knows which one. I need to talk to some people."
He hung the phone up, not giving Caleb any say in the matter.
Angel grabbed his keys and ran from the room, taking the stairs to the main floor. They ended in a small hallway that was out of sight of the main desk. One door led into the main lobby, the other went outside. The door to the outside world was locked and he knew you had to have a room key to open it.
Angel went out that way, checking for any security cameras, searching the lot for any signs of Buffy.
There was none.
Going back inside, he flashed his badge at the desk. "I need to see the tapes for the back entrance and the parking lot for the past two hours."
He was shown into a small room that held a desk and a couple of chairs, as well as a whole large bank of video equipment, monitors that flashed different cameras on a steady circuit, moving every two to three minutes. He saw the hotel's security manager there also.
"What is this about?"
"My girlfriend was taken from our room, I believe it was by force. I need to see the back parking lot security tapes, especially the ones that show the exit."
"Have you called the cops?" the manager asked. "Usually we give those to the police."
Angel yanked out his badge and slammed it on the desk. "I am the police, now do it!"
"Yes, Sir," the manager said, and he pulled out a keyboard and started typing in key commands. "All of our videos are done digitally now. We print them off onto disks. It's easier storage as well as the ability to put more on one disk than a whole felt of VHS tapes. It'll come up on this screen," he said, pointing towards the one just above him.
Angel watched the tape and the steady stream of people who came in and out of the building. He perked up some when he saw a man in a dark sweatshirt standing next to the door, ducking his head when somebody had walked past him. As soon as the person unlocked the door, he stepped forward, grabbing it and letting himself in.
Ten minutes later, that same man walked out the door, carrying he unconscious body of Buffy in his arms.
"Come on, look up! Look up you bastard. Give me a shot of your face," Angel growled, watching. The man took two steps and then flinched, looking up as if he'd been startled and he stared right into the camera. "Yes! I'll need a copy of this film."
The manager pressed a few more buttons on his keyboard and put an empty disk into the disk drive. He didn't say a word as it burned then it popped out on its own. He slipped it into a small paper envelope and handed it over. "If there's anything he hotel can do..." he started.
"Lock that door and keep it locked," Angel growled.
Then he was gone.
OoOoO
Angel parked in the underground parking lot, his tires squealing, he threw it into park even as he was opening the door to get out.
He was the only one in the elevator and pushed to go up.
The usual chaos had an added bonus as Caleb paced around back and forth, snarling at anyone in his path. He looked up when the elevator doors opened then he marched toward Angel. Murder in his eyes.
"What. Did. You. Do!" he growled. "Who the fuck did you piss off so much they'd take my cousin?"
"This time, it was your cousin who did the pissing off. Remember where you are would ya before one of these cops decided they don't care for your tone," he said then Angel motioned for him, Owen and Graham to follow him and he turned towards the stairs. "I've got a disk that shows the man who kidnapped her. I want to get our Audio/Visual guy to see it, maybe he can clear it up."
"Maybe you should send it to the Feds."
"We've got one of the best crime labs in the state. Our A/V guy is a trained expert, he's come through for me before and will again."
"Well thanks for the vote of confidence," Parker Abrams said and held his hand out for the disk. "What am I looking for?"
"Hey Park, I want his face. I want it cleaned up and maybe you can use that face recognition program... the one you are oh so proud of. I need a hit on this Parker. He's got my woman and I want her back. In one piece," Angel stood over him and Parker fast forwarded through until he got to the spot where the man was standing outside the back door of the hotel. "That's him."
Parker went through it frame by frame and they searched for anything that would help tell who the man was.
He cleaned the video up as much as possible then suddenly stopped on one frame. "Fuck me.. look at his hands!"
"Holy Hell... the pain should have him half mad," Owen said and slid closer to the large screen. "He's had to have had them checked out. Shock alone from burns like that could kill a person."
Angel picked up his cell phone and a phone book. "Hospitals.. call them all. See who's missing a burn patient." Then Owen threw Angel his cell phone back and grabbed his own from his jacket. He took the phone book and went to the back of the room to start making calls.
Both Caleb and Graham growled when they watched the screen, seeing him coming back through the door, carrying the unconscious body of Buffy.
"That fucker! If he's hurt her..."
"Stand in fucking line," Angel growled with them. "Hey, go back one frame. Can you clear that up any more for me?"
Parker's fingers flew over the keyboard, typing in all kinds of things Angel didn't understand. He just kept his eyes on the large screen, watching as it grew more and more clearer.
"His face is also burned. God.. why isn't he deadly afraid of fire?"
"Psychosis. Voices in his head tell him to set the fires.. and they're more painful than his burns. The longer he resists them, the louder the voices get. His only relief is the fire."
Parker looked up at Angel, surprise in his eyes. "I didn't know you narc guys were all in tune with how people think and feel."
"We're not exactly. Most the fuckers we mess with are out there getting kids hooked on drugs, fucking up lives. So no.. this is something Buffy taught me. She got in that guy's head... which is why he's fixated on her. And now I've got to get her back before those voices tell him to burn her up next."
He watched the screen and saw the man look up.. which is where he'd stopped the video before. Now he watched as the man went to a car, small and dinged up, and he popped the trunk.
He dropped Buffy inside then slammed the lid down.
"No fucking way... no way it's going to be that fucking easy!"
"I got the plate running now," he rattled off an address that was smack dab in the middle of all the arsons and only a few blocks from Buffy's apartment.
"We gotta get down there now. Call the arson squad and the fire department. If this guy's as looney as i think he is.. he won't be going down without a fight. Thanks Park, I owe you one," he said and slapped the A/V geek on the back.
OoOoO
The trip didn't take too long, even with Caleb and Graham in the back arguing and backseat driving.
Angel was more than tempted to stop half way there and kick both of their asses out just so he could think.
"If the two of you can't stop your bitching, you're going to be staying in the car when we get there," he yelled at them.
"Yeah... give a guy a badge and he thinks he's Superman!"
"Caleb, give him a break. He's found Buff... we just gotta go get her now."
"I'm going in. The two of you are going to stay by the car. And you are going to wait for the arson squad and fire department. Just think.. he may get away from me then you guys could perform and citizen's arrest and rough him up some."
Angel squealed around the corner. His car went up on two tires before slamming back down.
Graham grabbed for his seat belt and clicked it into place. "Listen you crazy man, I've got a wife and kids at home. I would really like to get back to them in one piece."
"No one said you had to come along," he replied and hit the brakes in front of a dark apartment building. He slammed the transmission into park, which rocked the entire car around.
In the back seat, Graham reached over and smacked Caleb on the arm. "Would you say something?" he hissed.
"I can't," Caleb said. "I'm praying."
Angel got out and opened the back seats of the squad car and let the two brother's out. "You're staying down here," he ordered.
Angel pulled his gun from its holster and checked the load before slamming it into place. He slid it back under his shirt and looked up at the top floor of the building.
"Is that on fire?" he asked as he squinted.